Foiled by the spam filter, once again
To understand why my blog wasn't updated for 14 days is to understand my life. It wasn't because I didn't have time, had nothing to say, or didn't have internet access. No, it was because I screwed up my server so that I couldn't log in to Movable Type, then couldn't get in touch with my sys admin because I used profanity in the subject line of my email to him. Those of you who know me will find this situation completely unsurprising.
My admin's spam filter judged from the language in the subject line of my email that this message could not possibly be discussing anything other than a porn site or possibly one of those aggressive penis enlargement ads, and it dutifully kept such vile content from soiling his Inbox. And, thus, my rants about The Swan and The Bachelor, my etiquette faux pas at a friend's wedding, my trip to my mother-in-law's house, and my first experience hanging out with really, really drunk people while pregnant all went unblogged. All because, not only could I not describe a simple technical issue without cursing, but I couldn't even wait until the body of the email to do it.
I've often thought that this is why it is very unlikely that I'd ever be able to hold public office or be any sort of pillar of the community. My tendency to express myself with all the eloquence of a drunk pirate is quite off-putting to people of class, so pretty much anything I say, like my email to my sys admin, tends to get caught in the great spam filter of life. For example, when discussing politics at a social gathering I might have some keen insights into the fiscal policy of a certain candidate, but it comes out as, "That thieving ***** needs to look at where the money from that ***** ******* tax is really going. You might be surprised to hear that only 12-*******-percent is actually going to the ***** schools." At this point my audience has missed my message entirely; they're still reeling from my creation of a new compound word that combines a little-known body part and a verb.
I'm hoping that having a kid will inspire me to clean up my language. If not, the results could be disastrous. I don't think it would go over too well with my husband if our child told him what he could do with that bar of soap in graphic detail when it was bath time. Of course I would try to say the kid picked up the language from "Sesame Street: The Director's Cut" or something like that, but I don't think he'd buy it.
The email I wish I could send
-----Original Message-----
From: Jennifer [mailto:jen@jenntonic.com]
Sent: Tuesday, May 25, 2004 3:23 PM
To: Friends & Family
Subject: Your inquiries
Dear Friends and Family,
I have not been online for the past few days because I was out of town, so I apologize in the delay returning your emails. I also apologize for the mass email, but since you all seemed to want to know the same thing I figured this would be the most efficient method of communication.
In the 35 hour period that I was not checking email, I received five (5) inquiries about the size of my abdomen, the specific verbiage varying from "so are you getting big?" to "are you CRAZY and HUGE yet?!?!?" I received zero (0) inquiries about my health, the health of the baby, the baby's gender, whether or not I'd felt the baby kick yet, or anything else that was not related to my level of "hugeness".
Thus, I have set up the email account areyouhugeyet@buttafly.com so that I may expedite this critical information in the future. Emailing this account will automatically sign you up for the Is Jen Huge Yet Newsletter, in which I just send out pictures of my stomach in lieu of actual correspondence.
And for those of you ask me this same question once a week, you're now eligible for the Is Jen Huge Yet Webtracker, an internet-based desktop application that will update the size of my abdomen in realtime, so that you never have to go a moment without this critical information.
I am also working on a deal with the local cable company to launch the Is Jen Huge Yet Channel, whose programming consist entirely of a camera focused on my belly 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. The cable execs were skeptical at first, but after showing them my Inbox they were convinced that there is clearly a large demographic that is fascinated by my uterus.
I hope that you will all find these to be valuable, time-saving services.
Best,
Jennifer
A guide to understanding writers
When am I going to learn to stop asking for feedback if I don't want it? When it comes to my writing, I'm a sensitive, hyper-defensive troll who can't tolerate the slightest suggestion for improvement. Yet I always find myself blurting out, "I'd love to hear any constructive criticism you have!" because I want to pretend like I'm a mature adult. My energy would be better spent just sitting around and hitting myself in the foot with a hammer.
At least I know I'm not alone. Dealing with writers who submit articles to Buttafly has taught me that all writers a) are insecure and b) hate criticism almost as much as I do. And they have it easy! Because I'm a crappy editor and fear confrontation, my criticism tends to be very light. A rambling article full of logical errors and spelling mistakes might receive a response like, "This piece is the most glorious work that hath ever been penned, a statement for the ages, as if from the mouths of the winged angels themselves. And could you correct the five misspellings in the third paragraph?" ...And the author will still get defensive and upset with me.
So I've decided to help the editors and well-meaning friends of writers of the world and put together this handy guide to interpreting the secret language of writers:
| A Guide to Translating Writer-Speak | |
| What writers say... | What they mean... |
| What are your thoughts on my writing? | What are your thoughts on my writing, which I will interpret as your thoughts on my value as a human being? |
| I'd be interested to hear your feedback. | I'd be interested to hear you tell me how great this is. |
| Thanks for your constructive criticism, those are definitely areas where I can improve. | I hate you! Die! Die! Die! |
| I will make the changes you suggested right away. | I will drag my feet on making these changes for as long as possible while I sulk. |
| I don't agree with all of your comments. | I will resent you for all of eternity. |
| Is it too long? | Tell me it's great. |
| Is the plot easy to follow? | Tell me it's great. |
| What about the tone? | Tell me it's great. |
Just when you think you have a cool domain name...
I've always loved Buttafly as a name for a website. Though I sound slightly like an asshat when I say it in polite conversation, I generally like the ring of it. (Some sophisticated person at a cocktail party: "My website is a political forum called IndependenceAndReason.com. What's yours?" Me: "Uhh, Buttafly.com" Them: "Ah, Butterfly, how lovely." Me: "No, Butt-a-fly." Them: [Pretends to see someone they know and quickly walks away]).
Also, I've always thought that Register.com's algorithm for generating alternate domain names if the one you wanted is taken is pretty accurate. For example, if you try to register WomensClothes.com and it is taken, it might suggest the available domains WomensFashion.com or GirlsClothes.com instead. Good stuff. They clearly have an accurate system for understanding what your site is about based on the domain name.
Well, because I'm incredibly anal retentive, I recently tried to register Buttafly.com just to make sure it wouldn't let me (I need a hobby, I know). It did show up as taken, and I was just about to close the browser when I happened to see Register's alternate suggestions for my domain name. I don't know what I would have expected the alternate suggestions to be. WittyFunnyGreatSite.com or FascinatingWritingByJennifer.com would be too much to hope for, but this? Their suggestions were:
ass-a-fly.com
rear-a-fly.com
fly-a-butt.com
a-butt-fly.com
...And the .net and .us versions of all these gems were available as well. My initial reaction was to be pissed at their crappy algorithm for offering such base, insulting suggestions. Then again, this is a website that I have used as a forum to turn gangsta rap lyrics into PHP code, analyze the French translation of Doggy Dog World, refer to Native American transvestite midgets, and post a survey asking visitors to rank various reasons why I should kill myself over the crappiness of my site.
Perhaps the algorithm is just really, really advanced.
Another $1,200 bottle of nail polish
I stopped by the mall to get some self-tanner to cover up my glowing white legs today and somehow ended up walking out with a new bottle of MAC nail polish. I cannot believe I did that. The last time I bought a bottle of MAC polish it ended up costing me $1,200. Unfortunately I know a girl who works at the MAC counter and, despite my best efforts to avoid eye contact with her, I ended up running into her and therefore feeling obliged to buy one of her products. (Yet another bold, self-assured move from Jen.)
Never do this. Never, ever, buy MAC nail polish for any reason. Not only is the quality of the polish itself mediocre, but the bottles are IMPOSSIBLE TO OPEN once you've used them once. It's like Excalibur. Unless you are the gifted one, touched by the the fashionable makeup gods, you are not going to be able to wrench the lid off of the damn thing.
One day a couple of years ago I had the final showdown with my bottle of polish in a bright red hue called Vixen. I was running late to meet friends when I realized the polish on my toenails was badly chipped. I grabbed the bottle to do a quick touch-up but, as usual, it would not open. Usually I could pry it loose by running it under hot water or using an industrial wrench, but this time it wouldn't budge.
It was time to teach it a lesson.
I decided that pounding it on my desk was the best course of action. It might not get it open, but at least it would think twice about not opening on me next time. Upon impact with the desk it did, indeed, open. The bottle shattered and splattered all over everything. Everything. The bright red mixture of paint and shards of glass got on objects I didn't even know I had in my room. The desk, the walls, my bed, the carpet, my nice new khaki pants, and, somehow, even the underside of my chair were all covered in red spots and spatters.
In addition to replacing all the miscellaneous objects marred by Vixen, I ended up having to replace the carpet for the entire upstairs area of my condo for the cool sum of $1,200.
So, there are a few lessons that you can take away from my experience: 1) NEVER buy Mac nail polish. It is insanely annoying that you pay $20 for a little bottle and then can't even use the damn thing. 2) If you do happen to have a bottle of Mac and can't get it open, smash it. It will make you feel so much better. It may cost you $1,200, but that's a small price to pay for teaching a surly inanimate object a lesson.